
Class ^ESaiTUJLSl 
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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Poems 



BY 



Alexander Francis Chamberlain, Ph.D. 

Assistant Professor of Anthropology, Clark Univer- 
sity, Worcester, Massachusetts; Editor of the Jour- 
nal of American Folk-Lore; Member of the Amer- 
ican Antiquarian Society; Corresponding Member 
of O Instituto de Coimbra, etc.; Author of "The 
Child and Childhood in Folk-Thought," "The 
Child: A Study in the Evolution of Man," etc. 




Boston: Richard G. Badger 

The Gorham Press 
1904 



Copyright 1904 by Alexander Francis Cliamberlain. 
All Rights Reserved. 



I LinnftHYof CONGRESS 
Two Copies Keceiveu 

NOV 7 1904 

Copyrigin tntry 

CLASS ^ M.I No; 

COPY B. 






Printed at 
The Gorham Press 
Boston, U. S. A. 



TO MY WIFE 



CONTENTS 

HYMNS AND RELIGIOUS POEMS 

The Motherhood of Mary 9 

Christinas 9 

Easter 10 

The Living Jesus 12 

Faith and Love 12 

Easter Hymn 13 

The Source of AH 14 

Our Creed 15 

Self-Contented Truth-Possessors ... 16 

Use of Talents 17 

Ad Astra per Aspera 17 

The God of our Fathers 18 

Hope 19 

Dedication Hymn 20 

Song for Lend-a-Hand Club 21 

Anniversary Poem 22 

Installation Hymn 23 

POEMS OF LOVE AND CHILDHOOD 

To the Betrothed on the Season of Her Birth 27 

To the Betrothed on Her Birthday ... 27 

To Isabel 29 

The Child 29 

"The Cry of the Children" (Adapted) . .31 

Child and Parents 32 

SONNETS 

I. Jesus and Shakespeare .... 35 

II. To the Betrothed in a Volume of 

Shakespeare 35 

III. To the Betrothed on Leaving to See 

his Mother 36 

IV. Percy Bysshe Shelley : 1792-1892 . 36 
V. In Memoriam : John G. Whittier . 37 

VI. To Rev. Edward Everett Hale on 

His Seventv-Fifth Birthday . 37 
VII. To His Wife' on the Birth of a 

Daughter 38 

5 



VIII. To Hon. George F. Hoar, Senator 

from Massachusetts .... 38 

IX. Abraham Lincohi 39 

X. G. Stanley Hall 1878-1903 • • • 39 

POEMS OF PEACE, WAR, POLITICS, ETC. 
The Czar Disarmer 43 



The Voice of New England . 
George Washington 1799- 1899 
Abraham Lincoln .... 
In Memory of Walt Whitman 
In Memoriam : Henry George 
A Hymn Written in War-Time 



43 

44 
45 
45 
46 

50 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, OUATRAINS. 
ETC. 

To the Pessimist Friend 55 

To a Friend 56 

A Great Man's Death 57 

The "Profanum Vulgus" 58 

In a Copy of the Poems of Johanna Am- 

brosius 61 

W. E. Gladstone 62 

James Russell Lowell 62 

In a Copy of Mrs. Browning's "Sonnets 

From the Portuguese" 62 

To Louis N. Wilson for his Omariana . 63 

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GERMAN 
OF JOHANNA AMBROSIUS 

The Poet 67 

Do Thou Love Too ! 68 

Optimism 69 

Lift up Your Hearts ! 70 

Greeting Jo 

Thine Eyes Ji 

The Sun 71 

May Night 72 

Home 73 

My Song 74 

The Last Song 75 



HYMNS AND RELIGIOUS POEMS 



THE MOTHERHOOD OF MARY 

Ages have not dimmed the glory 

That round Bethrhem's manger shone ; 

With the years that simple story 
Tender grace and truth hath won. 

Ye are not exalted yonder, 

Far from us, in deity, — 
Sweet exchange for sign and wonder, 

Ye are human, e'en as we. 

Blessed Mary, thou art holy 

In a mother's hallowed right. 
And thy Jesus, born so lowly, 

Filleth all the world with light. 

Bethl'hem's story, greatly human, 
Meaneth more than marvel could, 

Teaching each true man and woman 
How divine is motherhood. 



CHRISTMAS 

Time hath not sundered every chain 
That holds us to the ruder thought, 
For many a link our fathers wrought 

Twists in and out our heart and brain. 

We treasure still an ample store 
Of myth and fable, tale and song. 
That to the elder days belong, — 

Bloom that the race's childhood bore. 

And, be its vision ne'er so dim, 

Tlirough all the strivings of our race 
Messiah-hopes we faintly trace, — 

Age after age hath looked for him. 



-1895. 



He came, men dreamt, in Palestine ; 

Upon the holy Christmas night 

A mother gave a child to light, 
Whom longing hearts proclaimed divine. 

And legend saith, a bright star led 

Earth's wisest to the cradled God ; 

While shepherds, who their night-watch trod, 
Heard angel-voices overhead. 

The myth may fade, the dream may melt, 
God's trnth within it never dies : 
Though sweeter visions bless onr eyes, 

We read the word our fathers spelt. 

Today no star the wise men brings. 

The simplest soul can find the child ; 

O'er every cradle undefiled 
The mother-heart her Christ-child sings. 

— Christmas, 1895. 



EASTER 

In every age the world has known 
Some bard felt moved to sing 

Earth's paean over winter gone. 
Her welcome to the spring. 

The mvsteries of the Easter-thought 

To all mankind belong ; 
No time the perfect light hath brought, 

No race the final song. 

Yet art thou blessed, Palestine, 

Among all lands of earth ! 
For thee a holy light did shine, 

A glorious song find birth. 



10 



He is the world's, that martyr-soul, 

Divine, as heroes are ! 
A beacon, when death's waves shall roll. 

The Galilean's star ! 

We deem not that the flesh o'ercame 

The grave's obscurity ; 
We trust the soul's immortal flame 

Hath touched on deity. 

We will not hail the Christ alone, 

The solitary way ; 
God doth a thousand prophets own 

This happy Easter day. 

We feel their all-pervading power 

Around us and above ; 
We learn from spring-time bird and flower 

The truths of life and love. 

One with the Christ who conquereth. 

One in the hope they bring, 
One in their victory over death. 

The first wild flowers of spring. 

One with the Sermon en the Mount 

The birds' sweet melody, 
Clear-flowing from the eternal fount 

Of God's own charity. 

Then sing we, for all Nature sings. 

Sing Christ, and bird and flower ! 
Sing ! for the world with gladness rings. 

And life and love have power ! 

— Easter, 1898. 



II 



THE LIVING JESUS 

From the ages of men's dreaming 
Comes the thought that after death 
Every soul — with new Hfe teeming — 
Needs the worn-out body's sheath. 

We, who hold that men inherit 
God's eternal, quenchless mind, 
Trust that every human spirit 
Shall a nobler temple find. 

Jesus died. The body perished. 
Dust to dust and earth to earth — 
But the ideals that he cherished 
Were of an immortal birth. 

Mightily his spirit strivcth 
With the fainting hearts of men ; 
More abundant life he giveth, 
Bids them hope, trusty love again. 

Myth may gild the martyr's story, 
Creeds the man may deify ; 
Treasure we the human glory 
Of the life that could not die. 



FAITH AND LOVE 

How slow the rise of love appears, 

If chronicled alone by creeds ! 

But in the book of common deeds 
How hate has vanished with the years! 

Not first man knew the ought and must 
Of creed fear-made and monk doubt-born, 
The God of hate, the body's scorn, — 

The oldest faith was fireside trust. 



12 



Home was the primal fount of prayer ; 
There first the Holy Spirit spoke, 
When men threw off the brutish yoke, 

And life grew gentle, sweet and fair. 

There first the path of love men trod — 
Home's creedless faith is older far 
Than church and priest and Bible are, 

And older too its thought of God. 

— October, 1897. 



AN EASTER HYMN 

God of our fathers, and our God, 

O guide us now, as yesterday. 

For many a dark and thorny way 
Must by our weary feet be trod. 

Invisible, Eternal One, 

Whom men through faith alone may see. 
Grant us the strength that comes from Thee, 

As through the night we travel on. 

Though we are weak, and leave Thy path, 

O Lord of all and Lord in all. 

We know on us Thy mercies fall. 
Thy tender love, and not Thy wrath. 

Abide with us this Easter morn. 
And bless the simple service here 
Of those wlio keep, with hearts sincere. 

The faith that with the Christ was born. 

—1893. 



13 



THE SOURCE OF ALL 

Source of the boundless universe, 
The Hfe in earth and sky and sea, 
Still growing 'neath Thy charity, 

Not fettered by a primal curse ; 

Source of the soul that dwells in man. 
Whom not a single moment's thought. 
But slow-evolving ages, brought 

Out of the slime where he began ; 

Source of the world's advancing good. 
Firm-stepping toward the final goal, 
When, from all evil freed, heart-whole, 

The man shall stand where God has stood ; 

Source of the all-pervading sense 

That makes us feel, when knowledge fails. 
The unseen wind that fills our sails, 

Though we but note the calm intense ; 

Source of the eternal, guiding Hght, 

That brightest shines 'mid darkest gloom. 
And leads the weary traveler hoiue 

When comes the last, eclipsing night ; 

Source of the never-failing hope. 
The trust in immortality. 
The faith that, dying, we shall see 

Another world of larger scope ; 

Eternal source, whom we adore, 

No specious gifts Thine altars bear — 
Our hearts uplift the earnest prayer. 

To know, to love, to serve Thee more. 

-1893. 



14 



OUR CREED 

About our creed no memories cling 

Of thought enslaved or reason spurned ; 
Our faith's pure lamp hath ever burned 

Where prophets speak and poets sing. 

Our kinsman is each soul who taught, 

In ages past, the reign of law, 

The growth of things ; whose genius saw 
One far-off goal of act and thought. 

No baleful creeds our strivings crown, 
Hard-hearted faiths that libel God, 
That weary life with dogma's load. 

And on its simplest pleasures frown. 

Our Credo owns diviner birth, 
The slow result the ages give — 
A faith by which a man may live. 

And not escape to heaven from earth. 

Its builders knew not priestly arts, 
And churchly cunning framed it not ; 
No views o-utworii its scutcheon blot. 

It grew of God in growing hearts. 

Our creed is simple, pure and free, 
No inquisition and no ban — 
Just love to God and love to man 

And trust in immortality. 

We follow him whose feet have trod 
Life's thorniest path, its holiest way. 
And with the real Christ today 

Are nearer drawn to man and God. 

And, touching things beyond his ken. 
We win, where larger knowledge calls, 



15 



His trust in love, where strife appals, 
The good and true he found in men. 

One God we own, one beauty see. 
One living truth, one perfect good. 
One march of human brotherhood, 

Love-led, to God-like destiny. 



-1895. 



SELF-CONTENTED TRUTH-POSSESSORS 

Woe unto you, that, knowledge gaining, 
Think only, deadening heart and hand ; 
Find kin, on self-proud heights remaining, 
In those alone who understand ! 

Forget ye, when on earth the Master 
Turned foot-sore from the dusty road. 
From Mary's cruse of alabaster 
The precious ointment freely flowed ? 

More than his followers' deeper learning 

Did Jesus prize that woman's deed, 

Who, from all thought of shrewdness turning, 

Let heart and soul in action plead. 

Woe unto him whose brain neglecteth 
What ignorant hearts and hands have done ! 
The idol's drudge God more respecteth 
Than the best church's hanger-on. 

Better the heathen's strong endeavor 
Than Christian inactivity ! 
Better the goal unreached forever 
Than truth-contented apathy! 



16 



-1897. 



USE OF TALENTS 

The glory, Father, whicli Thou gavest me, 
Not as a miser hoarding, I have spent 
Among the hungry, thirsty people. See, 
This way and that the goodly blessing went ! 

Thus spoke the Master, and the self-same word 
Marks out today the great ones from the small ; 
Wisdom, nor wealth, the true man seeks to hoard. 
But all God's gift he wisely shares with all. 

-1897. 

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA 

Our Father, for no other name 

Can fit Tliine everlasting love, 

Forgive us if we slowly move, 
Whose hands are weak, whose feet are lame, 

We would not all of life were light, 
Narrow the path and smooth the way, 
For here on earth each live-long day 

Seems brighter from the bygone night. 

We toil from morn to set of sun 
Along the rugged steep of life. 
Beset with thorns of sin and strife. 

And something leave unreached, unwon. 

Grant us the strength still to aspire, 
To leave behind us guilt and sin, 
To strive those nobler heights to win. 

And, though we sink, yet mount the higher. 

Through night and storm lead Thou us on, 
Until we reach Thy perfect day ; 
Forgive us when we go astray. 
And not our will, but Thine, be done. 

— February, 1894. 
17 



THE GOD OF OUR FATHERS 

My fathers' God, Thou still art mine : 

'Mid changing creeds and names forgot, 
The Eternal Goodness alters not, 

The voice I hear, they heard, is Thine. 

Thou art the same through ceaseless time, 

Immutable while ages roll ; 

'Tis but the imperfect human soul 
Whose aspect shifts with date and clime. 

Creeds have their day ; they come and go ; 

Their prophets rise, their martyrs fall ; 

But God, who lives through one and all. 
Is arbiter, not men below. 

And they have each of wisdom's seeds, 
Some portion of the true and good, 
The inharmonious multitude 

Of jarring sects and warring creeds. 

Above the tumult and the din 

We hear the "still small voice" of , right. 
And with each slowly-lifting night 

We count some triumph over sin. 

Truth's mountain-heights, so dimly blue, 
Are lost to sight 'mid gloom and doubt ; 
But when the sun of faith shines out 

Peak after peak breaks boldly through. 

The creeds of sage and savage tell 
Of strivings toward a far-O'ff goal. 
Of life devoid of care and dole 

That rises with the passing-bell. 

No matter at what shrine he kneels. 
No matter to what God he prays, 

i8 



For ease of life, or length of days, 
Each man an inspiration feels. 

The hardest paths are lightly trod,_ 
Griefs overcome and sorrows stilled, 
When faith his fainting heart has filled 

With trust in an eternal God. 

Safe in His hands the world may rest. 

Whose tender love is over all ; 

We know, whatever fortune fall. 
That all is ordered for the best. 

And, though in bygone ages they 
At other altars may have knelt, 
The God that with our fathers dwelt 

Remains the same with us today. 

—March, 1893. 



HOPE 

"We bid you hope," the poet saith. 
And in the darkest hour to trust ; 
The light shall come because it must, 

And life be victor over death. 

Dark clouds may cover all the sky, 
The snow may hide the barren plain. 
But sun and spring-time come again, 

For storms and winters turn and die. 

When trials come and friends grow cold. 
Though life may seem one web of ill, 
And warp and w^eft but sorrows fill, 

O lose thou not hope's thread of gold ! 



19 



Virtue, not vice, is monarch here, 

And no revoh of sin can last ; 

Soon is the transient tumult past, 
The sun of right again shines clear. 

No truth of God can fail or fall ; 

In His design there is no flaw, 

No accident, but only law 
And justice sovereign over all. 

Despair not thou, though crushed by sin ! 
Forgiving at the eternal gates, 
Tlie tender Shepherd eager waits 
To let the weary wanderer in. 

— 1892. 
HYMN 

JVrittcn for the dedication of the South Unitarian 
Church, Worcester, Massachusetts. 

This humble house our hands have raised 

We dedicate, O Lord, to Thee ; 

In service simple, pure and free 
Here shall Thy holy name be praised, 

And those remembered of all time. 

Who toiled and died to make men free. 
The good and great of history. 

Prophet and sage of every clime. 

No creed shall cast its shadows o'er 
The lowly threshold all may pass, 
No narrow dogma, rude and crass, 

With harsh confession bar the door ; 

But, wide as range of human thought, 
Strong-set in love our faith shall be. 
For all at last must come to Thee, 

Our Father, as Thy Jesus taught. 



20 



Within this temple deign to stay, 
Our humble offerings, Lord, accept, 
And keep, who hast our fathers kept, 

Thy chiklren of a later day. 

—January, 1895. 



SONG 

Written for ''The Edward Everett Hale Lend-a- 

Hand Club" of the South Unitarian Church, 

Worcester, Massach usetts. 

Look up ! Faith since the world began 
Has bared her forehead to the skies. 
And seen, with never-doubting eyes, 

The God-likeness that waits for man. 

Look forward ! Ever Hope's glad heart 
Has felt, e'en more than Faith could see. 
The bright, immortal destiny 

In which the lowliest soul has part. 

Look out! For seeing more than Faith, 
And feeling more than Hope, Love's hand 
So gladly lent in every land. 

Has conquered sorrow, sin and death. 

Then, lend a hand ! Each day, each hour, 
Enkindle Faith, and Hope and Love, 
Till earth is one with heaven above, 

And God's own kingdom comes with power. 

—1896. 



21 



POEM 

Written for the first anniversary of the South 

Unitarian Chureh, Worcester, 

Massachusetts. 

Eternal Father, whose deep love 

All-conquering- good, trvith, beaiity planned, 

Creator, whose unwearied hand 
Still works within, beneath, above. 

Though its best yield bears rude impress, 
Thine earthly children, gathered here. 
To mark the passing of a year, 

Do Thou, the Master-workman, bless ; 

And teach us, when weak souls forget. 

And lean on Thine infinity. 

Our fellowship of toil with Thee 
In the great task Thyself hast set. 

Yet must this nearness reverent be ; 
Forbid us man as God to crown, 
To drag Thy hidden Godhead down. 

In our scant image fashion Thee. 

We built not, as our fathers built, 
A shrine to please an angered God ; 
We would not turn Thy chastening rod, 

Nor flee the wages of our guilt. 

The punishment that comes of sin — 
The woe, the misery, and the pain — 
Though all must leave its fitting stain, 

Shall help us nobler heights to win. 

And, Father, in the year to come. 

When from Thy path our feet shall stray, 
When from Thy face we turn away, 

O lead Thv wavward children home. 



22 



When in onr ears war's rumors sound, 
And reckless men are prone to strife. 
Draw us yet closer to that life 

Of peace and love in Jesus foinid. 

Above the tumult of our time 

Attune our souls to hear the good, 
To feel our human brotherhood, 

And brand e'en thought of war as crime. 

Till o'er the world that peace find birth 
Our little company has known. 
The ties of love all nations own. 

And heaven be born indeed on earth. 



—1896. 



OUR FAITH 

Hymn liriticn for the installation of Rev. G. W. 
Kent as minister of the South Unita- 
rian Church, Worcester, 
Massachusetts. 

Source of all beauty, truth and good, 
Whose wisdom star, plant, genius, tell, 
No Eden, lost, no endless hell, 

Defeats Thy loving Fatherhood. 

Not on the sands of race or birth 

W^e build a temple meet for Thee ; 

The Brotherhood of Man must be 
Foundation-stone of heaven on earth. 

His Leadership we own, who saw 

That man and God dwelt not apart — 
The human Jesus, whose great heart 

Alade love the universal law. 



23 



The life of each his cause must plead, 

No substitute can grace confer ; 

Salvation is by Character, 
Vain else are martyr, Bible, creed. 

Eternal Progress we can see ; 

He, whom thou taughtest to aspire 

From senseless clod to man, mounts higher, 
With every age, and nearer Thee. 

-1897. 



24 



POEMS OF LOVE AND CHILD- 
HOOD 



TO THE BETROTHED ON THE SEASON 
OF HER BIRTH 

.Spring's eldest-born, wert thou, dear Love. In 
March, 
Ere yet the mayflowers or the violets bloomed, 
Or earth, so late in winter's snows entombed, 

Smiled up new love to heaven's low-bending arch. 

Thou cam'st. In thee the spring-time life re- 
newed. 
Beyond the miracle of flower and bird, 
God's highest, holiest covenant that stirred 

The universe to beauty, truth and good. 

Spring-born, the season's magic wonders cling 
About thee still — thou hast a sweeter dower 
Than beauty's charm, than wealth or wisdom's 
power — 
Thy presence changes all the world to spring. 

—March, 1897. 



TO THE BETROTHED ON HER BIRTH- 
DAY 

Dear Love, another year is thine, 

With its rich store of grace and good, 
Its sweet unfolding womanhood, 

And all that fashions thee divine. 

I, made of ruder stufl:', but still 

Striving to touch that purer sphere. 
Wherein thou movest, pledge thee here 

Supremest deed of hand, heart, will. 



27 



And, yet, what gift can I bestow, 

Whose Hfe thy friendship hath made fair. 
That with thy goodness can compare, 

Or pay the eternal debt I owe? 

True-hearted friend, whose trust I prize 
More than the noise of fame, the applause 
Of men, love's holy impulse draws 

Our kindred souls to deathless ties. 

Together, Sweetheart ! Thou shalt guide 
My eager soul o'er paths untrod. 
And I shall need no other God 

Than that I know when by thy side. 

Thou shalt inspire and hallow life 
Through all the grander years to be, 
When I am nearer still to thee. 

And love-ennobled, call thee wife. 

And, while to thee each round of time 
Increase of grace and goodness brings, 
So may it power in him who sings 

To turn to deed these words of rhyme. 

— March, 1896. 



28 



TO ISABEL 

In a copy of Iter address on "Ideal Patriotism," 
printed as a birthday gift. 

Today sweetheart and lover ! When the year 
Gently shall bring thy birthday back again, 
Husband and wife ! But changeless shall remain 
The old-time hopes, ambitions, visions dear. 
He, who as sponsor for thy genius stood. 
And seeks to live for thee his fullest life, 
Offers this gift — ere sweetheart change to wife — 
Remembrancer of wisest maidenhood. 

—March, 1898. 



THE CHILD 

Thou, little Child, art beast and God, 

Past and futurity ; 
Thou tread'st the paths our fathers trod. 

The paths our sons shall see. 

Thine is the dross of that long climb. 

The still-remembered past ; 
The golden age thou know'st sometime 

Throughout all life shall last. 

The savage sees but with thy light, 

The sage no wiser is ; 
Thou hold'st the phantoms of the night. 

The day's realities. 

Thou art the father of the man, 

The brother of the race ; 
Thou mirror'st the barbarian, 

Thou hint'st the angel's grace. 



29 



The genius is the eternal child, 

Flecked with the race's sin ; 
The poet sings his "wood-notes wild," 

Born of thy childish din. 

By Avon's stream thy fancy knew 
Through all men's souls to move ; 

And, with thy heart, "the blessed Jew" 
Turns all the world to love. 

The prophet still must tell thy dreams. 

The teacher pupil be ; 
And all our deepest knowledge seems 

But wisdom caught from thee. 

The hero, in thy faith, still strives 

To reach the blessed isles ; 
At heaven's gate our human lives 

Repeat their baby smiles. 

O helpless child, thy coming wrought 

The miracle of man ; 
Through thee were love and pity taught, 

The beast put under ban. 

And woman ! Nature cast her form 

Upon the self-same mould, 
That thou, amid life's stress and storm, 

Shouldst linger to grow old. 

Man, treading in the steps of them, 

Shall gentler, sweeter be. 
Till every home is Bethlehem 

Without its Calvary. 

O mighty child, 'tis Science names 
Thy kingdom upon earth, 



30 



And with the Son of Man proclaims 
The greatness of thy birth. 

Now priest and man of science bow 

Before thy face. The clod 
Touches divinity, and thou, 

Instinct with All, foreshadow'st God. 

—1898. 



"THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN," ADAPT- 
ED FROM MRS. BROWNING 

Hear ye not the Children weeping. 
Ere the sorrow comes with years? 

Mother-love true faith is keeping, 
But tJiat cannot stop their tears ! 

Lambs are bleating in the meadows, 
In their nests the young birds sing ; 

Fawns are playing with the shadows, 
Westward blow the flowers of spring. 

But, the Children, O my brothers, 

They are weeping bitterly, 
In the play-time of the others. 

In the country of the free. 

E'en as young leaves they are falling, 
Blighted, round the parent-tree ; 

"O our Father/' they are calling, 
"Death in life is all we see." 

God shall judge thee, O gold-heaper, 
By the blood that marks thy path. 
And the Child's sob curses deeper 

Than the strong man in his wrath. 



31 



Call them forth from city crowded, 

Let them roam the meadows through ; 
There, beneath tlie skies unclouded, 

They will sing as thrushes do. 

Let them learn of God's sweet story, 
Written through the world of life ; 
Let them taste of Childhood's glory 

Ere they come to manhood's strife ; 

For of such, — 'tis Jesus speaks it, — 

Is the kingdom of our God ; 

And the greatest, wisest, seeks it 
Only by the Children's road. 

— February, 1895. 



CHILD AND PARENTS 

Dear child, thy pregnant babble comes 
From pristine man's ineloquence ; 

Thy play the past and future sums 
Of all mankind's experiments. 

And, not too false or alien grown 
From the race-life, thy parents. We 

Are quickened by thy glad touchstone, 
And, prattling, play, at one with thee. 

— March, 1904. 



32 



SONNETS 



JESUS AND SHAKESPEARE 

Two men, at least, earth holds, not less than 
heaven, 

Immortal, — Jesus, Shakespeare. Saxon, Jew, 
Alike these conquer race and clime, are given 

Enduring mastery over old and new. 
One chose in all men's hearts to be enshrined, 

So death might pass, and hate be lost in love. 
The other, templed in the human mind. 

Drew life and death, all acts and thoughts that 
move. 
They stand alone, but not from us disjoined. 

Or from each other. They are kith and kin 
Of all mankind. The wit, the love they coined 

Came from the common ore where all begin. 
That English brain, that heart in Palestine, 
Grew not less human, as they grew divine. 

October, 1897 — December, 1899. 



TO THE BETROTHED, IN A VOLUME OF 
SHAKESPEARE 

Like as some mountain, he, above all lands, 

Lone-towering, till his cloudless top wins 
heaven, 
And I, as one of the uncounted sands 

His stream-worn sides unto the sea have given. 
Apart his genius dwells, in solitude ; 

About his path no eager rivals throng; 
The generations rise, the ages brood, 

But bear no claimant for his crown of song. 
Yet, though his art I may not emulate, 

Not all the man his genius could remove ; 
In one thing, I, with Shakespeare can be great, — 

Genius and peasant are alike in love, — 
Each to one heart, that to his own beats true, 
Gives all his love, — all mine I give to you. 

— Mav, 1897. 
35 



TO THE BETROTHED, ON LEAVING TO 
SEE HIS MOTHER 

Time, so swift-footed when the loved one's near, 

Doth in her absence ape eternity ; 
Without her sunshine every day is drear, 

For lack of her unstarred the nightly sky. 
Thus hath it been since man first woman loved 

And felt her power to teach his soul to climb ; 
No matter where his laggard footsteps roved, 

The best he knew fell short of her blest time. 
Two women rule each mortal's destinies, 

Fit him for hell, or lift him up to heaven. 
One in his childhood's right he deifies, 

To one the worship of his manhood's given. 
To her I go, but parting comes full sore, 
Not that I love her less, but love thee more. 

-1897. 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 1792— 1892 

If thou dost slumber in the realms above, 

Wearied by memories of thine earthly fate, 
Wake, gentle Shelley, wake, the strains of love 

Have quenched the last expiring notes of hate. 
England, that mocked thee with her slights and 
scorn, 

— Nay, e'en that churlish pile by Isis' side, — 
Hails thee as one to high Parnassus born, 

And, in her new-felt praise, forgets to chide. 
Dead are the savage foes of other days 

And past the bitter taunt, the gibe, the sneer ; 
Now, o'er the world, one harmony of praise 

Greets thy new birth this centenary year. 
Thus, through defeats and griefs misunderstood, 
The power divine brings all things to the good. 

— August, 1892. 
36 



IX MEMORIAM: JOHN G. WHITTIER 

The good old Quaker bard has passed away 
And rests beyond the reach of worldly cares ; 
A soul ambition crossed not with its snares 

Has winged its flight to the eternal day. 

One of New England's sturdy, manly brood, 
The simple stories of her life he sang. 
The joys of earth that heal grief's bitter pang. 

Triumphant truth, the beautiful, the good. 

A man of peace, yet foe to tyranny. 

Friend of the oppressed and hater of the wrong, 
He lent a race his eloquence of song, 

Till from their bonds they stood erect and free. 
Beyond the allotted years of life he ran, 
And, calmly meeting death, new life began. 

— September, 1892. 

TO REV. EDWARD EVERETT HALE, ON 
HIS SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 

Unto one life but seldom it can fall 
To win the sages' and the children's crown, — 
By these love-given, from those the meed withal 
Of purest thought to high achievement grown. 
Thou art thrice-crowned : the wise, the children, 

God, 
Five milestones past the three score years and 

ten, 
Crown thee, whose tireless feet keep still the road 
The One most human trod while here with men. 
May years to come with all life's sweets be blest. 
Hand, tongue, and pen their work of love pur- 
sue, 
Until the Father, who doth all things best, 
Finds thee some higher, worthier task to do. 
Saint Edward ! thou receiv'st the holy name, 
Uncanonized but by the world's acclaim. 

— April, 1897. 
37 



TO HIS WIFE, ON THE BIRTH OF A 
DAUGHTER 

Mother thou art, yet none less dearest wife! 

Three years together ! Now the ties that bind 

Us are made visible. Another life 

Is here, in which our better selves we find 

Sweetly remembered. We again are one, 

W^io had grown one through love, nor dwelt 

apart, 
From the red east until the morrow's sun. 
A day's short space ; but, living heart in heart. 
Waited her coming. Her young life repeats 
Our happiest moments, and her look so wise 
In us no sinful exiles chiding greets. 
But love-born citizens of Paradise, 
Where god nor devil lurks to tempt her out. 
And human goodness is her shield about. 

— August, 1 90 1. 

TO THE HON. GEORGE F. HOAR 

Senator from Massachusetts, on the occasion of 
his recent speech in the United States Sen- 
ate upon the Philippine question. 
"Peace hath her victories no less renowned 
Than war." Thus Milton spoke, who was the soul 
Of that awakening which had lately found 
Its strong right arm in Cromwell. Ere the roll 
Of English guns had ceased to startle those 
Age-seated tyrants of the continent, 
Who placed in God their blasphemous repose. 
His message to the great Protector went. 
And Cromwell heeded. Is the lesson vain 
To-day? The greater England in a war 
Scarce three months long has vanquished cruel 

Spain, 
And, 'mid the clearing smoke of battle, Hoar 
Speaks to our Cromwell : Let this be the land 
That dares the lust of empire to withstand ! 

— January, 1899. 
38 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

Spirit of him who conquered "destiny," 
When one down-trodden race made mute appeal, 
Soften our hearts tcv-day to set men free, 
Not forge new fetters of a subtler steel ! 
We who dared once the great experiment 
Incarnating the fathers' mighty word, — 
"Equal and free," — grow hard and would repent 
Us of the thoughts that schooled the world. We 

erred 
So long to build in peace ; the swifter way 
Of Babylon is better ; we are strong, 
And might shall force men to our bidding. Nay ! 
Now is no time to prate of right and wrong. 
INIartyr! The wand'rer in far-off Luzon 
Was taught by thee and by great Washington ! 

— February, 1900. 

TO PRESIDENT G. STANLEY HALL 

On the occasion of the tzventy-fifth anniversary 
of his receiving the doctorate: iSyS-igo^. 

A quarter century's sheaf, whose fruitful years 

A Darwin might have envied, — won from soil 

Un furrowed by his mighty plow ! Thy toil 

Makes man the master of his loves and fears, 

The genius of the race all pent in him ; 

Sets his great soul from mystic bondage free, 

Widens the bounds of personality. 

Charting new islands in its oceans dim. 

Land, race, and sex have had their fetters riven 

By hero, martyr, poet_, saint and sage ; 

Yet freedom counts no nobler heritage 

Than that which thou unto thine age hast given : 

Through thee the child, whose fulness makes 

the man. 
Hath leave to be the most, the best he can. 

—May, 1903. 

39 



POEMS OF PEACE, WAR AND 
POLITICS 



THE CZAR DISARMER 

Czar Disarmer ! Ages greet thee, 

That have glimpsed the sheathed sword ; 

Bards and prophets throng to meet thee, 
Who forethought thy mighty word. 

"Peace on earth!" The holy yearning 

Fills anew the souls of men. 
Have we reached the point of turning. 

Never to fall back again ? 

Nineteen centuries old the message 

That the Galilean spoke ; — 
Are thy words of clearer presage? 

Will man cast the bestial yoke? 

Perish every base suspicion ! 

We will trust thee, Muscovite. 
Thou hast sought the sacred mission, 

Lead us forward into light ! 

—1898. 

THE VOICE OE NEW ENGLAND 

'Twas not for pelf nor subject lands 

Columbia took the sword. 
And Massachusetts' free-born hands 

Shall stay the plighted word. 

The Bay State hath no part with them 

Who ape the curse of Spain ; 
She may not wear the robe whose hem 

The slave shall kiss again. 

She, at whose mighty word of old 

King George's tumbled down, 
Shall whisper no excuse to hold 

Alfonso's petty crown. 



43 



Taught by great empire's swift descent 

(A Rome to ruin hurled) 
A homogeneous continent 

Outweighs a mongrel world, 

Alone, if need be, still she keeps 

The faith of Washington ; 
Not by her will our banner sweeps 

Where bondmen greet the sun. 

The sword she from the tyrant caught 

No tyrant use must know ; 
She hath the heavenly vision sought 

And cannot fall so low. 

—1898. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 1799-1899 

World-heard a hundred years that mighty name 
Has been our people's glory, his wise words. 
In war and peace, the pilot's that affords 
Sure anchorage in the port of honest fame. 
W^ho bids us scorn him now ? A war-wild crowd, 
Whose port is anywhere, whose sails are set 
To "fate." Shall we trust them who speak so 

loud 
To-day, though silent yesterday? Forget 
The politician's "destiny" but masks 
The opportunist's failure to foresee, 
To mold, — the craven disregard of tasks 
Which statesmen use to conquer destiny ? 
No ! We must prove that man is lord of self. 
And builds the world by force of character ; 
For, God be thanked, nor trick, nor "tact," nor 

pelf. 
Hath vet the grace true manhood to confer! 

—1899. 

44 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

O thou undaunted hero-soul^ 

Whose fealty to the true and good 
The nation's strongest bulwark stood, 

And kept it, as thyself, heart-whole! 

O simple, rugged, honest life, 

A nobler crown thy manhood earned 
Than prophet for his faith's sake burned, 

Or warrior fallen in righteous strife ! 

True friend of man, — in word, in deed, — 
In thy pure faith, all brothers are ; 
Color, nor race nor creed can mar 

The primal oneness God-decreed. 

Reformer, savior, martyr, thou, 

That in some higher, ampler sphere 
Fulfillst the life unended here, 

And yet art present with us now, 

Thou need'st no marble for thy fame; 

These mighty states in union blent 

Are thy sublimest monument 
And graven with thy deathless name. 

—1896. 



IN MEMORY OF WALT WHITMAN 

O "good grey poet," thou wert born too soon. 
In the dim morn ere yet the clouds were gone ; 

Thy time had been the glare and blaze of noon, 
When unobscured by clouds, the day-god 
shone. 



45 



Rude wert thou, as the first-born of a race, 
That, bursting- from the bonds of form away, 

Sings out its heart, not studious of the grace, — 
If grace it be, — that makes the bard to-day. 

The applause of those whose verses fashion 
moulds, — 
The poetaster's meed, — thou could'st not gain ; 
But other hearts thy plainer language holds. 
Whose homage far outweighs such tributes 
vain. 

Yes, thou shalt live, for many a soul has grown 
The better by thy life ; this earth had been 

The sadder but for thee, for thou hast known 
To banish gloom and let the sunlight in. 

All may not deem the poet ; thou canst claim 

The simpler honor by our fathers given ; 
"INTaker" thou wert, — "that good old Saxon name 
Wins thee safe entrance into Shakespeare's 
heaven. 

— April, 1892. 



IN MEMORIAM : HENRY GEORGE 

Poem zirittcn for the memorial meeting in Wor- 
cester, Massachusetts, December, 12, 18^7. 

The grave-yard of oblivion stands 
Hard by ambition's ill-sought goal ; 
There lie forgotten, soul on soul. 

The ignobly great of all the lands, — 

The idly rich, the knavish high, — 
None e'er escape God's perfect count ; 
Though to men's eyes these seemed to mount, 

Low in His dust at last they lie. 

46 



There demagogue and tyrant blend, — 

Who cheated man, could not cheat God, — 
The lane so long in triumph trod 

Found sudden turning and swift end. 

All unremembered let these rest, 

And shed no tear that they are gone ; 
'Tis not through such the race moves on, 

Or by their works is hourly blest. 

To other souls fame's temple opes, 
Whom place nor riches led astray, 
Whose night was spotless as their day, 

And greater than their deeds their hopes. 

The scrolls within that holy shrine 
Bear record of the faithful few, 
Who, sent of God, to truth stood true. 

And wrought on earth the love divine ; 

Who, living not to self alone. 

Shared all their fellows' grievous load, 
And, dying for them, dwelt with God, 

Till man co'uld claim them as his own. 

And, when that splendid hero moved, 
Whose martyrdom we honor here. 
Up to that higher, ampler sphere, 

Where souls by loftiest deeds are proved, 

The angel of the impartial pen, 
That knew the Galilean's fame, 
Wrote under Henry George's name 

The self-same words : He died for men. 

And he, who, like the Master, went 
Gladly the narrow way of death, 



47 



Had lived in love and hope and faith, 
The best he might, as Jesus meant. 

A faith invincible had he. 

That, since man's heart intended well, 

His seeming' zero never fell 
Quite out of God's infinity ; 

Faith that, though coming ages, saw 
Each human weakness grow to strength. 
And, evil waning, rule at length. 

All unenforced, the people's law. 

Hope had he that the cause of right 

Some glorious triumph soon should gain 
That he might hear the victor-strain 

And glimpse the f^ush of morning light ; 

Hope that his life one step might be 
In man's hard climb to lasting good. 
To warless years of brotherhood, 

W^ith life and land and labor free. 

Love unalloyed to all he bore. 
But sent his heart of hearts to seek 
The poor, the fallen and the weak ; 

They needed and deserved it more, 

Than those whose robes immaculate, 
High-lifted from life's miry road. 
No human fleck or blemish showed, 

No sign of conquered lust or hate. 

Such was the man we knew and loved. 
But he was more! He scorned to sit 
Securely dumb, till times were fit, 

And he might speak and be approved. 

48 



He never sought the "bosses' " grace ; 

Body and soul he owned himself ; 

He never smothered truth for pelf, 
Or coddled wrong for power and place. 

He had the old-time prophet-fire, 
And dared to speak for right alone ; 
Denounced the victory fraud had won, 

Nor silent heard the truth made liar. 

To conscience first life-pledged he stood. 
Nor ever let the tempter win, 
Who whispered 'mid each battle's din 

"A little wrong may work great good ; 

From out two evils choose the less 

And serve." The very thought he spurned 
And from the recreant many turned 

To cast his vote for righteousness. 

And he, who greatly lived, could die 
As greatly. Treading duty's path, 
Even to death, we know he hath 

The martyr's immortality. 

I leave with you the poet's thought, 
Sung o'er the world's first hero slain : 
He is not dead ! He lives again 

In us who hold the truths he taught. 

Since arduous paths must still be trod 

And conscience over ease prevail. 

When school, and church and home all fail, 
For men like Henry George, thank God ! 



49 



A HYMN WRITTEN IN WAR-TIME 

Not where the cannon's roar 
Deals death by sea and shore 

Man labors best ; 
But where, in paths of peace, 
Bidding' brute passions cease, 
He toils for life's increase 

With holy zest. 

The justest wars men wage 
Write not on history's page 

So much of God 
As a great nation can, 
That builds a home for man 
Without one bar or ban 

To its free sod ; 

A commonwealth kept pure 
From sale and sinecure 

In places high ; 
Whose statesmen wise and strong. 
To truth alone belong, 
Righting no wrong by wrong, 

No lie by lie ; 

Whose people^ calm and free, 
Honor the law's decree, 

The proven fact ; 
Stain not its scrutcheon white 
With deeds of savage might, 
Nor cloak with specious right 

The mob's base act; 

A land where race and creed 
No low dissensions breed, 
But blend in love ; 



50 



Where parties, nobler grown, 
Truth, right and justice own, 
In peace, not war alone, 
Together move. 

Vain dreams of empire are ; 
Though round the world in war 

Ox\v flag may roam, 
The best we do abroad 
Blinds not the eyes of God, 
Who marks each lie and fraud. 

Our worst, at home. 

— June, 1898. 



51 



MISCELLANEOUS VERSES, QUA- 
TRAINS, ETC. 



TO A PESSIMIST FRIEND 

Thou seest but the lowering cloud, 

I mark the silver Iniing ; 
I hear the happy voices loud, 

Thou but the sad repining. 
Thou seest vice, and crime and sin. 

The beast still rule the human ; 
I see each century usher in 

The nobler man and woman. 
Tliou hear'st the anguished martvr's cries, 

The brutal mob's glad shouting ; 
I see the godlike human rise 

Above all self and doubting. 
Thou seest the weak consumed with pain, 

The present woe and sorrow ; 
I see the strong that make the gain, 

The happier race to-morrow. 
Thou askest : Where is mighty Rome, 

A greater past revealing ? 
I see o'er earth from Peter's dome 

A holier influence stealing. 
Sayst thou : Like Homer we have none, 

So strong, so great a singer; 
I point thee to my Tennyson, 

The sweetest solace-bringer. 
Thou crowiiest chance 'mid death and strife. 

No higher law beholding ; 
I see the varied round of life. 

To one great end unfolding. 
Thou seest the close of all things here, 

Of striving and of sinning ; 
I see beyond another sphere. 

And death a new beginning. 
Cease, friend, to fit they thoughts to night, 

And, gloomy humors scorning. 
Come, watch with me the world grow bright. 

The nieht break into morning ! 

—April. ICS93. 
55 



TO A FRIEND. 

Though martyr-times of old have passed, 
And stake and scaffold wait in vain 
For witch and prophet, yet remain 

To the inspired, who holdeth fast 

A single thoug'ht, the dire distress 
Of public frown and private spite, 
The social scorn that crushes right, 

The sneer and gibe of worldliness. 

To hold to right when faith alone 

In God and truth thy courage nerves. 
And not to join with him who serves, 

When skies are fair, for favors done ; 

To bear the brunt of thankless, strife. 
To spurn the briber's tempting gold, 
To keep the manhood others sold, 

Forego for truth the sweets of life ; 

Hard is the task ; yet some must act. 

Else would this world of ours stagnate 
Forever some must master fate, 

And turn their thinking into fact. 

To such, perchance, the power is given. 
Amid the flux of hopes and fears. 
To pierce the mists of future years, 

And see earth widen into heaven. 

Of these art thou, whose kindly deeds, 
Whose simple faith and service true, 
Meet not on earth the honor due. 

But wait to win their heavenly meeds. 

5^> 



What if thy life be vain to thee, 

Yet make some friend forget his woe ! 
The Hfe thou gavest here below 

Thou shalt possess eternally. 

—July, 1893. 



A GREAT MAN'S DEATH 

When falls on cedar'd Lebanon 
Some giant, many-centuried chief, 
The forest, vocal in its grief, 

IVIakes long, reverberating moan ; 

From cliff to cliff the echoes fly, 

Each vale prolongs the notes of woe. 
Wind-wafted, on and on they go, 

Till in the infinite — they die ; 

When sinks some isle that used to be. 

Though smooth the waves above it roll, 
The news is born to pole and pole 

And round the circle of the sea ; 

When dies some star that gemmed the night, 
To us, whose little earth-ball turns 
About another sun, still burns 

A thousand years its vanished light ; 

So, some are born of Adam's sons. 
Whose loss involves the land in tears. 
Whose passing echoes through the years, 

Whose thought through sequent cycles runs ; 

Nor is that course impulsive staid 
Till all the world has felt the pain. 
Till all the world absorbs the gain. 

Till all the round of man is made. 

— October, 1893. 

57 



THE "PROFANUM VULGUS" 

The unrecorded deeds of life, 
Tlie little acts that men ignore, 
Build up our race and shape it more 

Than all the boasted feats of strife. 

The "hero" from the wars may come. 
And captive foes in triumph bring, 
The world with all his praises ring, 

Tlie nation bid him welcome home ; 

The statesman, service-gray, may kneel 
The guerdon of his queen to take, 
The recompense of such as make 

Their highest care the common weal ; 

In wisdom's garden, night and morn. 
The sage may toil that truth's pure seed 
May pass, safe-kept, unblemished, 

To sons of men as yet unborn ; 

Once in an age some Christ may rise 
To teach to men the holier way 
That leads from darkness into day. 

The narrow pathway of the skies ; 

Some priest way lift himself above 
The harsh restraints of sect and creed. 
Fulfil in very word and deed 

The precepts of the law of love ; 

The tribune, silver-tongued, may still 
The angry senate's gathering storm. 
Or move, with power no schools can form, 

The mob to laugh and weep at will ; 

5^ 



In noblest measures, gentlest speech, 
The laureated bard may sing, 
Faith, hope, and consolation bring, 

The highest lessons wisely teach ; 

Born of Euterpe's priceless gift 

The g'reat composer's notes may roll 
Till, to the music, every soul 

Through changing moods of passion shift 

To mark some faith's protracted reign. 
With all the g"enius God has g^iven, 
The architect may raise to heaven 

The pillared dome or Gothic fane ; 

The sculptured marble may recall 

The good and great that are no more ; 
E'en some Pygmalion implore. 

Till, art excelled, life moveth all ; 

A Titian warmth and color give, 
That fix the eye, transport the sense. 
Move the rapt soul to eloquence, 

And make the landscape almost live ; 

Yet these are but the choice, the rare, 
Not often comes the hero-birth. 
And but a handful on this earth 

Unquestioned marks of genius bear. 

These few, with clearer vision blest. 
See through the darkness that enfolds 
The world and pierce the veil that holds 

God's secrets hidden from the rest. 

They too approach with firmer tread 
The confines of the unknown land. 



.S9 



And boldly grasp the outstretched hand 
By which their latest steps are led. 

These cast the griefs of life aside, 
The rude vicissitudes of fate. 
And see beyond this mortal state 

The doors of heaven open wide. 

They see and know that all is well ; 
Above the tumult and the strife, 
With which this lower world is rife^ 

The harmonies celestial swell. 

But to the multitude these signs 
Appeal not, for their spirit's eye 
Is wearied with mortality, 

And little of the truth divines. 

The humbler players on life's stage 
Scant breathing-space or leisure find ; 
The body's labor dwarfs the mind, 

And toiling upward lasts an age. 

What may avail the sage and saint. 
The victories of art and song, 
If but a few from out the throng 

May reach the goal, while millions faint? 

Vain to the many prophet, seer, 
Vain e'en the martyr's sacrifice, 
If wholly barred to them the rise 

Above the toil and misery here. 

And vain their rugged life in sooth, 
If not instinct in one and all. 
No matter where their fortunes fall, 

The deathless striving after truth. 



60 



In spite of doubts that often rise, 

Still buds and flowers the hallowed seed, 
The conscious race asserts its creed, 

And man moves upward to the skies. 

The world with woes is not out- worn ; 

As gold transcends each base alloy, 

So ever some supremer joy, 
Outmastering grief, with it is born. 

What seemeth here but accident, 

Flux and reflux of right and wrong, 

Where days seem short and nights are long, 

Is ruled by some divine intent. 

All may not see. We trust in faith • 
That forward, never backward, moves 
The world, and that within us proves 

The end of all things is not death. 

The paths are plain the race has trod ; 
The peasants' simpler instincts show 
The self-same road by which they go 

Whose reason crowns their childhood's God. 

—March, 1893. 



IN A COPY OF THE POEMS OF JOHANNA 
AMBROSIUS 

Die erste Frau war Dichterin, 

Dabei auch genial ; 
Der Menschenkiinst' Urheberin, 

Der Gottheit Ideal, 

Jetzt, wie im Anfang, singt sie hin 

Des Lebens Leid und Pein ; 
Und baut mit ihrem Schopfersinn 
Auf Erden Himmel ein. 

— Christmas, 1896. 
61 



W. E. GLADSTONE 

He strove to bind again the ties 
Injustice sundered ruthlessly, 
And. fearing not to make her free, 

He bade a nobler Britain rise. 

-1893. 



JA^JES. RUSSELL LOWELL 

Not thine own land alone doth grieve for thee, 
Not there alone doth lasting sorrow bide ; 

Her island-mother, far across the sea, 

Doth weep for thee, as 'twere her son that died. 

Safe rest, for jealous guardians of thy fame, 
Two mighty nations from Old England sprung 

Shall ever watch o'er thee and keep thy name 
Immortal as their own good Saxon tongue. 

— August, 1891. 



IN A COPY OF ]\IRS. BROWNING'S "SON- 
NETS FROAl THE PORTUGUESE" 

The Portuguese, whose songs the poet sings. 
Are not that folk pent by the Iberian strand, 

But the undying race, whose music springs 
From every human heart at love's command. 

— Christmas, 1899. 



62 



TO HIS FRIEND, LOUIS N. WILSON, FOR 
HIS OMARIANA 

Your Omar turned from making tents to verse, — 
Some say the change he made could scarce be 
worse ; 

But Allah willed it. Who am I to say 
The one was blessing and the other curse? 

Red wine he loved, and woman's soft caress ; 

Had I been, Allah, he had loved both less. 
But Allah's dice are cast beyond recall, 

And He, not I, must father such excess. 

— January, 1901. 



63 



TRANSLATIONS FROM THE 

GERMAN OF JOHANNA 

AMBROSIUS 



THE POET 

Ye ask, what goods the bard possesseth, 
What wisdom must he call his own? 

He, who a thousand hearts refresheth, 
Needs surely hold the enchanter's stone. 

And yet, 'tis little stulY for building 
The poet for his work doth take. 

As he the plains the sun is gilding 
Doth with his spirit's pinions make. 

When from sweet sleep so captivating 
Day-wearied men are loth to rise^ 

He, in the hot throes of creating, 
Groans after the lost Paradise. 

Filled is his bosom with deep longing. 
For him no peace, no rest, appears ; 

Tears for all men his eyes are thronging. 
The burdens of mankind he bears. 

Deep into beauty's spring he diveth. 
Brings forth the noblest jewel there; 

For flowers for thee with God he striveth 
With his whole heart's profoundest prayer, 

'Tis not himself he thinks of blessing ; 

It is enough for him indeed, 
If but his song works thy refreshing,— 

He asketh neither thanks nor meed. 

The rose her hue his heart's blood giveth. 
The lily pales when he doth weep; 

Each little wanton leaf that liveth 

Is but his sigh long-drawn and deep. 

67 



Nought recks he that his locks are bleaching, 
Nor heeds the deep, consuming grief; 

His genius but one thought is teaching, 
To other hearts to bring relief. 

As thine own child, his songs receiving 
Into thy heart, spare love in nought. 

For no one knows with what sore grieving 
Thev all into the world were brought. 

—1896. 

DO THOU LOVE TOO ! 

The waves all whisper, 
In the moonbeam's glance, 
They laugh and they beckon 
The sweetest of measures 
For the water-sprites' dance ; 
With much ado 
They splash so gently : 
"O love thou too!" 

In the blooming linden 
Of doves a pair 

Have nourished their young ones 
Year after year ; 
They're billing and cooing, — 
Ne'er rest they knew, — 
From their hearts they are twittering : 
"O love thou too!" 

How dear to high heaven 
Is earth below ; 
When sometimes he's clouded 
And hidden in woe. 
The sun in a moment 
The clouds breaks through. 
And smiles down upon thee : 
"O love thou too!" 



68 



If love thou desirest 

Rightly to know, 

Thou must to the picture 

Of Jesus go, — 

"My life I have given thee, 

And what givest thou ? 

O, heart so inconstant. 

Do thou love too!" 

—1896. 



OPTIMISAI 

Is now no song of mine successful, 

Though 'twas so easy long ago? 
Are my wings tired with flight distressful 

Through all the universe of woe? 
Extinguished is my torch's glowing, 

My pollen all dispersed in vain ? 
As if the hand of fate, harsh growing, 

Had from my wreath its green leaves ta'en? 

No, no! Cheer up, my soul, aim higher, 

Up, up, into the sunlight move ! 
E'en in thy sorro\v_, tune thy lyre, 

And fix thine eyes on heaven above ! 
And, like the stream from winter's sleeping, 

Give thou they song a pathway free ; 
Still to the front thy banner keeping, 

Thou shalt in battle victor be ! 

—1896. 



69 



"LIFT UP YOUR HEARTS !" 

Let but a single song-bird's note 

Thy bosom penetrate, 
At once, in full accordance, all 

Thy soul doth jubilate. 

Do thou the fragrance of one flower 

Inhale as breath of God, 
And in the garden of thy heart 

A thousand flowers shall bud. 

To but one star in heaven above 

Teach thou to soar thy soul, 
And on the wide, wide earth, my child, 

Tliv cup of bliss is full. 

—1896. 

GREETING 

I greet thee, O thou kindred spirit. 
As one the gladsome sunbeam liails. 
When, after the long nights of winter, 
The young spring day again prevails. 

Just as the spring, with its warm kisses 
Gives fairest wealth of flowers their birth. 
So in this heart of mine thy magic 
The earliest green of hope charms forth. 

And from my heart new-animated. 
Gently ascends a grateful prayer 
That God doth keep for me this sunbeam, 
Nor ever lets it disappear. 

The storm may come now^, and the tempest, 
Assured. I tremble not, nor start, — 
I greet thee, O thou kindred spirit, 
God bless thee, who my sunshine art ! 

—1896. 
70 



THINE EYES 

If I into thine eyes can gaze, 
The world has two-fold lovchness. 

Then am I in right joyous mood, 
And think that every heart is good. 

Grief I forget, and worry — nay, 
I e'en forget the judgment day. 

The well-spring of my life's thine eye, 
It soothes my heart, bids anger die. 

O, do not backward start from me ; 
Vouchsafe my soul the sight of thee ! 

O, veil thou not with eye-lash low 
The one sweet light of life I know ! 

—1896. 



THE SUN 

Sun I'd like to be. The sun, 
Not the moon with stars at play ; 
I'd charm forth from every stone 
Sweet red roses of the May. 

I would press my mouth of flame 
On the souls of men so cold, 
Until all the world's round frame 
Love in his embrace should hold. 

—1896. 



71 



MAY NIGHT 

The moon is rising" ! Once again deep breathing, 
Down to his rest the tired wind now hes ; 
Devout the flowerlets all their hands are folding 
And slowly close in sleep their weary eyes. 
A breath of peace trembles through field and 

forest, 
And with a million pearls the lake is bright ; 
While through the moss-green pathways of the 

woodland 
Hasten the timid deer with footsteps light. 

Even the smallest wavelet drips with silver. 
Whereon the w^ater-lily's head now lies ; 
And, with a never-satisfied deep yearning, 
The slender nymphs out of the waters rise. 
In sweetest tones breaks forth from sedge and 

willow 
The love-song of the nightingale so clear ; 
The nymph doth hear it, dances to the measure, 
And twines the fairest lilies in her hair. 

And what a whispering, wdiat a secret nodding ! 
From star to star a gentle chime of bells ; 
To me it seems as if heaven stands wide open ; 
Out yonder sweetest angel-music swells. 
In tune, but with the gentlest breathings, 
Responsive heaves now kindly nature's breast, 
And from the cheek of tired day, hot-gleaming, 
The last remaining trace of tears is kissed. 

Wilt thou, my heart, be ever anxious weeping, 
As were but storm and burning sun thy lot ? 
Behold, how fair above the chariot golden 
The banner of eternal love doth float ! 
Sometime the torture of thy pain-scorched 
meadows, 



72 



Illumed by softest moonbeams, all shall cease ;_ 
And there, than crystal lake more clear, be mir- 
rored 
The everlasting harbinger of peace. 

— 1896. 



HOME 

I shall not love my home the less, 

Whatever tales are told ; 
Above all lands of earth it is 

Like unadulterate gold. 
Though fortune's tlowers in other lands 

In richest colors bloom, 
I know that nowhere else the sun 

Laughs to me as at home. 

I shall not love my home the less, — 

My parents' house is there ; 
Before that quiet temple now 

I stand with feet all bare. 
Here every place is sanctified, — 

No holier thing I know ; 
I need not any word of priests, 

The tears unbidden flow. 

I shall not love my home the less, 

Whatever fate may send. 
Though, unforeseen, the judgment day 

Make of all things an end. 
I know that, were the whole round world 

In dust and smoke laid low. 
Still my beloved Germany 

A star to heaven would go. 

—1896. 



73 



MY SONG 

My song cannot be had for gold, 
Nor fame, nor honor buys it ; 
I sing it for myself alone, 
And care not how men prize it. 
No master ever taught me it, 
No school its lore afforded ; 
The music is of God himself, 
The text by Nature worded. 

Oft comes the wanton morning wind, 
A page from far-off blowing ; 
I wonder at the silly stuff 
That men are bent on knowing. 
Sounds it not well, the world at once 
The poor young bards rejecteth. 
Then each at other leaps and each 
The critic's role affecteth. 

This lacks a foot, and that a hand. 
And here the tone too gross is ; 
Such great ado they make, till each 
Beneath the sod reposes. 
I sing my song of loneliness, 
All its born faults appearing, 
For God and for myself alone. 
Not for the critic's hearing. 

Therefore, my friends, I would be taught 

No more, by your good pleasure; 

Seek not from northern sparrow, then, 

The nightingale's full measure. 

I thank you well for honor, praise. 

And all the fleeting glitter, — 

I have been long a cook, and know 

The laurel-leaf is bitter. 

—1896. 



74 



THE LAST SONG 

A song I'd fain imagine, — 
A wondrous song and strange, 
That, like the fragrant wind of May, 
Tlirough all the world shoidd range. 
From north to sonth, from east to west, 
Right swift its path should be ; 
To all mankind it should bring rest, 
Bliss, peace, prosperity. 

To sick men and to dying 
Should sweet refreshment come ; 
At gentlest motion of its wings 
All pains and aches be dumb. 
'Mid clang of arms, in battle strong, 
Men's courage it should stir ; 
To each uncomprehended song 
Be an interpreter. 

But where dark sin is lurking. 

With bloodv serpent's eye. 

To furious "tempest it should change. 

And drive him back to sea. 

Each rift in misery's house should be 

By its cool balm o'erspread ; 

It' should the temple purify, 

Set bounds unto all need. 

And, if this song succeeded, 
For gold nor fame I'd long ; 
I'd dash to pieces then my lyre 
And sing no other song. 
Then, with the forest over, 
In secret bury me; 
Let no one e'er discover 
Who brought this song to be. 



—1896. 



75 



NOTES 

A few of these poems appeared, as their sub- 
jects suggest, fugitively, in the pubUc press. Two 
or three were first published in The Open Court, 
Chicago; a few also in The Week, Toronto, 
Canada. 

The inspiration of several came from the ser- 
mons and addresses of the author's friend and 
former pastor, Rev. George W. Kent, now of 
Providence, R. I., to whose kind criticism they 
were often first submitted. 

The "Hymn Written in War-Time" was com- 
posed after reading some of the public utterances 
of ex-President Cleveland. 

For a number of the hymns appropriate tunes 
were selected by Rev. G. W. Kent ; "The Moth- 
erhood of Marv," Stockwell ; "An Easter Hymn," 
Berea; "The Source of All," All Saints; "Ad 
Astra Per Aspera," All Saints ; "Dedication 
Hymn," Federal Street ; "Installation Hymn," 
All Saints. The "Hymn Written in War-Time" 
goes with the tune "America." 



77 

LofC. 



